Acid Bath
by Beckaboo56
Summary: A criminal court judge is stalked and Brass has to babysit her. Things get sticky when the stalker turns assailant.
1. Chapter 1

ACID BATH

Chapter 1

She stormed into the office, her judicial robes flapping behind her. "Don't be ridiculous," she hissed, her emerald eyes flashing fire.

"I'm sorry, Your Honor," the clerk murmured. "It wasn't my idea. The Mayor insisted."

She frowned over at him. "It doesn't mean I have to like it."

He smiled slightly knowing full well that his employer loathed being coddled. "It's only temporary," he attempted to soothe her irritation.

"Temporary my eye!" She growled. "And I'm not so sure you weren't responsible for them getting wind of this in the first place." She ripped off her robe and forced it onto the coat rack behind her desk. "Get me the Mayor."

"Yes, ma'am." As he touched the phone, it began to ring. "Hello?" he answered it. Without another word, he handed it to the judge.

"Hello," She answered. "Carl, about this ridiculous order," she began. She motioned for her clerk to sit as she took her own chair. "Uh-huh------uh-huh. Well, I'm none too pleased. I can take care of myself quite well." She rolled her eyes as she listened. "All right, but I don't like it. Tell the Attorney General I said I'd cooperate, but with prejudice. " She listened again. "All right." She looked at her clerk's shocked expression as she rung off. "What," she demanded.

"You can talk to the US Attorney General like that?"

"Of course, Roger. We're old friends. He'll understand."

Roger rubbed the top of his bald head. "You know some mighty powerful people. Why do you stay in Criminal Court? You could have an appellate position."

"Bor--ing!" She put a hand on her hip. "I thought you knew me better than that by now. Criminal court is where the action is and I don't like being stifled."

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

Brass sat at his desk mulling through long overdue paperwork, hating the prospect of hours of prolonged agony with it. 'I'd do anything except this,' he thought. 'Why do I let things get out of hand like this?' With a sigh, he took

another sip of the coffee which had been brewing in the pot for over 2 hours. 'I don't know which is more agonizing, the paperwork or this coffee.' He smiled at the thought.

"Brass," the voice coming through the doorway to him made his skin crawl. What could it possibly be now?

"Yes, sir," he looked up at the commander. "I have an assignment for you, and I don't want to hear any guff."

'That's no way to start a conversation,' he thought. "What can I do for you, Chief?"

"We just got a request from the Mayor. He wants us to watch over one of the criminal court judges. Thought this would be right down your alley."

Brass took in a deep breath before speaking. "I don't have time to baby-sit a judge, Chief. As you can see, I'm up to my shield in paperwork and, as you so often tell me, if I don't get it done, then I'll be in it."

"I think I can make an exception for this. It is a very important assignment and I don't want to entrust it to anyone but you."

"You know how I hate those kind of assignments."

"Exactly why I won't take 'no' for an answer. Either you go or accept responsibility if anything happens."

"Why me?"

"It was a personal request from the Attorney General. He thought you would be the best man for the job."

Brass swallowed hard and sighed. "Maybe I can find someone who can do the job quicker than I can. Let me see the paperwork." The Chief handed him the request form and Brass scanned over it thoroughly, stopping as he got to the name of the judge. "On second thought, I better take this one myself."

"I thought you'd see it my way." The Chief said as he turned on his heel to leave.

bbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb

He rang the doorbell and was immediately greeted by a petite blond in a maid's uniform. "Hi, there. Jackson Plumbing. I was called by the Judge to do a rush job for her."

"I didn't hear anything about it," the maid cautioned.

"Well, she was in quite a hurry and was very insistent that it be done before she gets home. Guess she forgot to tell you about it."

"I don't know-------"

"Look, lady. I have a job to do, but if you want to face the judge with that bathroom leak still unrepaired-------"

"Which one is it?" She asked as she turned and escorted him to the bathroom in question.

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The judge sat at her desk, trying to go through the paperwork that Roger handed her. She was still fuming over the idea. How could the Attorney General do this to her? He knew how independent the judge was. What was he thinking.

"What is this all about," she asked. Roger leaned in to see what writ she was perusing.

"General request for change of venue, Judge. Nothing too difficult about it. Didn't think you'd have a problem with it, actually."

"Did you see who is requesting it?"

"Sure, Jacobsen."

"Well, I'm not sure this is a good idea. I don't see enough cause to request this."

"What more do you think is needed in this case?"

"That's the Foreman case, and for that I want to see a lot more. That guy is not getting any leeway from me. If she wants this, she can go to another judge."

The phone rang on her desk and Roger picked it up, not wanting to continue the terse conversation. "Thank you. Send him in."

"The police officer is here to escort you home." She scowled at him and stood, turning toward the window to look out.

"What a waste of manpower!" she groused. "I don't need a bodyguard. I'm perfectly fine."

"Let me be the judge of that, Brina." Brass spoke from the doorway. She turned around to look into his pale blue eyes.

"Jim! What a pleasure to see you. You come by to introduce me to my bodyguard?"

He smiled at her. "You might say that. I'm your bodyguard for the night."

She raised an eyebrow. "Well, in that case, I guess we had better be on our way. I have a full evening ahead, so you better be ready for dinner and theatre." She turned to put on her suit coat and pick up her purse.

He looked over at her appraisingly. From her well-groomed brunette hair to her gray Armani suit and dress flats, she was a picture. For a woman of 40 plus, she certainly didn't look a day over 25. Her full-figured body was only enhanced by her muscular, athletic legs. All the curves were in the right place.

He looked up from his inspection to see the smile dancing in her hazel eyes. "Do I pass inspection, detective?"

"Very much so, Your Honor."

"Stop that. You know better. Even on duty, you are still my friend and I expect to be treated as a friend, not an assignment."

"Yes, Ma'am." He smiled over at her, holding out his arm to escort her out.

dddddddddddddddddddddddddddddd

They walked into Brina's house together as she called for her maid. "Janna?"

"Hello, Ma'am."

"Janna, this is Jim Brass. He'll be staying here for the night. Please open up the guest bedroom while we are at dinner."

"Yes, Ma'am." The young lady moved swiftly toward the back of the house.

"Make yourself at home, Jim. I need to freshen up a little. I think I'll take a quick shower and then I'll be ready to go out for dinner."

"Where are we going?"

"How does Puck's sound?" He smiled and nodded as she walked toward her sleeping quarters. 'What does a guy do while a lady changes,' he wondered, moving toward the full length bookcase to the right of the door. 'Well, she has very good taste in novels. Scott Turow, James Patterson, Lillian Braun, Conan Doyle, Agatha Christie and Erle Stanley Gardner. Quite a collection.' He picked up a book by Turow and started to thumb through it. He moved around the room, looking at various awards and statues, including a collectible Edgar Award that she had bought at an estate sale just last year. She really liked mysteries.

eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

She undressed and slipped her red kimono around her. She had been looking forward to this shower more than she realized. The pulsating jets on her would feel so good after a day of sitting on the bench and especially after today. This whole deal was getting to be more than she wanted to think about. After all, it was just another threatening letter. Didn't she get them all the time? What was so new and different about this one?

She turned on the water and checked for temperature. Just right. Pulling off her robe, she stepped gingerly under the pulsating flow.

And then he saw it. This was quite the mystery. Nobody knew that she had any type of social life, and yet here she is in a picture with a very handsome man. It looked like it had been taken at one of those "olden times" photo places. They smiled lovingly at each other. He was a bit taller than her but not by much, and thinner than Bree. Brass picked up the picture to get a closer look.

"Well, well. I think I know him." He thought.

"Could this possibly be---"

"It is!"

CRASH!

TBC

6


	2. Chapter 2

ACID BATH

CHAPTER 2

He sat in the back of his work van, his eyes trained on the computer monitor in front of him. Waiting was tough, but he had waited 10 years, a few more moments wouldn't hurt.

"There she is," he whispered, eyes glued to the screen. She was a picture in her robe. Watching was more enjoyable than just doing it. He would soon have satisfaction.

She slowly took off her robe, stepping gingerly into the water she had tested for temperature with her hand. "She's quite a picture," he thought. "Wonder what she would be like?" A shrug barely moved his shoulders.

She slowly moved herself into the steam of the shower, taking time to allow the water to soak her body first, then her hair, then turning slowly to let it rush over her face. "That's it, baby," he whispered. "Enjoy it." As she moved her face into the full stream, an eerie grin passed over his face. "Love it." He pressed the Enter key.

fffffffffffffffffffffffff

Brass stood at the door of the bathroom. The stench of acid filled his nostrils. He could barely keep from choking. He was trying to decide what he should and shouldn't do. He had to stanch the flow of blood coming from multiple wounds on her arms and face, yet he needed to preserve the crime scene. It wouldn't be long before the paramedics arrived, but he had to act fast. Bree's screams of pain were ripping down his spine. Agony gripped his heart as he realized he couldn't stop them.

Janna rushed to his side. "Captain," she began.

"Here, Janna," he handed her his keys. "Get in my trunk and bring me a mask and some gloves."

"Yes, sir."

Tears filled his eyes as he kneeled down to aid his friend. "Jim…", she gasped. "It burns…"

"I know. The paramedics are on their way. Hold on, Bree." He took a towel to stop the blood flow from an especially deep cut as he investigated the shower with his eyes. The glass shower door was completely broken, and some of the blood probably came from that, but Bree had tiny slices all up and down her torso and face, from what he couldn't tell.

Then there were the burns. Third degree blisters had already started to form on her arms, neck, face and torso along with swelling and necrosis. He barely recognized her. She writhed in agony, making him feel all the more helpless. He reached over to the spigot with a washcloth and turned off the water. Couldn't risk losing valuable trace evidence down the drain.

Janna rushed back to the door, holding the items in her hands. "Good," he walked to receive them. "Stay out of here. There is some kind of chemical in the air and it could hurt you. Go watch for the paramedics."

She paused, concerned for her employer, then nodded, "Yes, sir."

"Jim…" Bree reached up for him when he returned to her side.

"You'll be all right, Bree. The ambulance is on its way."

She coughed deeply. Her breathing was becoming labored. He feared she had inhaled too many fumes. He yearned to help her breath. "Come on guys," he thought. "Hurry up. She can't last long like this." His worry shown through his eyes, but he tried a confident smile for her sake.

"It's not working," she whispered.

"What?"

"That cocky…smile of yours." She blinked. "It's really bad, isn't it?"

"We'll take it from here, Captain," the paramedic stated before he could answer. A wave of relief came over him as he stepped aside to let them do their work.

ggggggggggggggggggg

Grissom sat at his kitchen table, a cup of coffee steaming in his hand, listening to the Police scanner. He had just finished a double only four hours earlier and had gotten about two hours sleep. Soon, he'd be back on duty for the night. He knew he couldn't keep up this pace, but the workload was tremendous this time of year and he had to be there. With a sigh, he started working the newspaper crossword in front of him. At least he could take a few more moments of relaxation before he had to jump into his truck and run. "Let's see," he thought. "A five-letter name for a male goat. Billy." As he placed the letters in order, a voice crackled over the scanner.

"…222 Windham Place. Officer needs assistance. CSI report." Gil shot up from his seat.

"Windham Place?" he thought. What could have gone wrong? Brass was there. He pulled on his coat, grabbed his case and rushed out the door, slamming it firmly behind him.

hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Catherine pulled to a stop outside Bree's house as Brass came out to greet her. "What happened, Jim?"

"Don't know yet. Looks like some kind of acid attack, but I'm not sure."

"Gil…"

"Isn't here, yet. I'll get him, don't worry. You and Sara get in there and start processing the scene. Find out all you can as fast as you can."

"Don't worry," Sara said. "We'll be thorough." He nodded as the paramedics came through the door, Bree on the stretcher with IV's dripping and a tube down her throat.

"She was having trouble breathing," Brass explained to the astonished women. "Hopefully, we aren't too late. It was fast acting, whatever it was." The ladies nodded and went inside silently.

iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii

Catherine walked the perimeter of the living room, trying to get a feel of the house and check for any trace of the invader. She walked past the bookcase, smiling at the choice of material that was available. She noticed a book out of place. "Better dust that," she thought. "Turow. Good choice." She knelt down to dust it.

"You'll get my prints off that," Brass informed. "I was browsing her library while she showered."

Catherine nodded as she bagged the book and went on. A picture lay on the floor, its frame broken. "I dropped that when she screamed," he informed. Again she nodded, picking up the picture.

"I'll take it from here, Brass. Go outside and wait for Gil. You can't be involved in this. You're too close to this."

"I know, but…"

She raised an eyebrow and he sighed, turning on his heel to leave the house. Catherine looked down at the picture, astonished at what she saw. She flipped open her phone and dialed.

jjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj

He sat at the wheel of the work van, watching the excitement across the street. It was gratifying to see what his work had accomplished. He knew he would be well-known for his prowess, now. The only thing he still hadn't seen was the final result of his handiwork. He couldn't see much from this distance, especially with the media humming about, but he would see the final report tonight on every station available in Las Vegas and probably on the national news stations as well.

One more person to see, and then…

Ah, here he comes, now. He grinned slyly as he started the ignition and slowly moved out from his parking place.

kkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk

"Okay, guys, get going. I'll be right behind you." Brass shut the ambulance door behind the paramedic working on Bree, trying to hold back the tears. How could this be happening to such a wonderful woman? To think, he had thought the threat was probably a joke. She did, too, but that didn't make it any easier on him. He turned toward the house to leave last minute instructions for the police officers on the scene.

The media were hollering at him from behind the yellow crime scene tape, but he didn't really hear them. The commissioner would be all over him for not talking to them, but he just couldn't bring himself to face that frenzy right now. This wasn't any average case. It was one of his best friends in that ambulance and that changed everything. The ambulance took off, sirens blaring. He only hoped they could find this creep in record time, before anybody else got hurt, if that was his game.

As he lowered himself to the porch step, he heard the screech of brakes.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

ACID RAIN

CHAPTER 3

"Jim," Gil started, eyes flashing fire and fists clenched to his side. Jim's tear-stained face rose to meet his. Gil breathed in a sigh to calm down. "She on her way?" Jim nodded. Gil turned on his heels. "I'll drive."

They jumped in to the truck and headed for the hospital, lights flashing. After a long silence, Gil glanced at Brass. "What happened?" he queried.

Brass shrugged and sighed, head hanging, "I don't know. It looks like some type of acid attack."

"Where was she?"

"In the shower. Catherine and Sara are checking it out as we speak."

Gil nodded, his mind racing. "Acid burns are horrendous," he thought. "She could die from them."

"I'm sorry, Gil." Brass sighed. "I didn't expect an attack in there."

Gil patted his friend on the shoulder. "I wouldn't have either, Jim. Don't beat yourself up. There wasn't a thing you could have done."

He screeched into the emergency room lot, slammed on his brakes and jammed open the door. "I just hope I'm not too late." Rushing to his trunk, he pulled out his kit. The two men pressed their way into the busy ER, flashing badges at reception and requesting the room number. Soon they stood outside the room watching through the closed glass doors.

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He sat at a stop light in the hot, late afternoon sun, silently glad the day was over and he could return to the solitude of his home. It had been a busy day and he was looking forward to some rest. As the light turned green, his cell phone sounded. "Hello?" he answered. "Well, hello there. Long time…What?" He frowned. "Yes, of course. I'll take the first flight out…No, I'll get a rental…Okay, meet you there."

He flipped the phone closed as he re-oriented himself to his location. "Rats," he thought as he made a U-turn at the next light. "No time to get packed. I'll have to take my emergency suitcase."

He flipped open the phone and hit speed dial. "Need to book a seat on your first available flight to Las Vegas," he stated. After making the arrangements, he rung off. Good thing he kept a bag packed in his car for situations like this. "Better call the office to tell them I'll be out of town, though." He thought. "Well, I'll just do that in flight." He pulled onto the Interstate and headed for the airport.

mmmmmmmmm

"Come on folks," the ER doctor ordered, "let's get her on the monitor and get me some saline to flush her wounds." He continued barking orders to nurses and residents as the monitor started blipping. Gil watched the heart pacing with bated breath, praying Bree would be all right. 

Brass stood to the side, not moving a muscle. He knew if Bree didn't survive this, Gil would be in pieces. They had grown up together and were very close. Now, this vibrant, athletic beauty lay like a fried heap on the gurney. It was nearly too much for Brass to bear, much less Grissom.

"Oh, God," Gil whispered a fearful prayer, his eyes glued to the monitor as her heart rate continued to slow down.

nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn

Catherine put her phone back in her pocket as she headed for the bathroom. Sara was already on her knees swabbing the drain and a standing puddle of water on the floor. "What ya got?" Catherine asked.

"Blood in the tub and on the floor, but I expect that will be the judge's. Lots of broken glass on the floor, apparently from the shower door." She turned on the ALS. "Hit the lights, will ya?"

Catherine turned off the bathroom lights. Sara waved the ALS along the sides of the shower, then on the tub itself. "Here's something," she smiled.

Catherine moved forward for closer inspection. Tiny shards of what appeared to be glass or very hard clear plastic lined the bottom of the tub. "Better get a sample of that." Catherine flicked on her flashlight and started choreographing the scene in her mind as she flicked on the bathroom light. "Let's see," she finally stated. "She comes in, turns on the water so it can warm up, probably checks herself in the mirror,"

"Pulls off her robe, tossing it to the floor," Sara added, gesturing to the corner near the tub, "and slips into what she expects to be a comfortable shower." Sara stepped into the tub with sanitary slip-covered feet, using her flashlight to inspect pulsating jets down the back of the wall. She carefully removed their covers and swabbed them inside and out. "These were turned on full blast. She must have been working out some major stress."

"Well," Catherine agreed, "knowing someone is out to get you can be a pain…" Sara gave a half-grin.

"…in more places than one." She finished Catherine's statement, turning to inspect the showerhead. Swabbing the outside, she twisted off the head and turned it over in her hand. "Hand me the magnifying glass," she requested.

"Whatcha see?" Catherine asked as she obliged.

"Don't know. Could be a hair, but…looks more wiry than hers."

"Maybe the perp's?" The ladies glanced at each other knowingly.

ooooooooooooooo

Gil took in a rush of shocked air. "Asystole," he whispered. He felt his knees melt from under him and grasped the handrail in front of him.

Brass's legs were frozen in place. He watched as the paddles were placed carefully on Bree's fried skin, watched her body convulse when the electricity was applied. Nothing changed.

Brass turned to Gil. Gil white-knuckled the railing to keep his stance. His pallor betrayed his emotions. A nurse put a hand gently on his shoulder. "Go get some coffee," she recommended. "We'll come get you when there is something to report." She nudged them toward the waiting room. "There's nothing you can do from here, anyway."

Gil looked into her soft brown eyes, allowing her motherly smile to calm some of his fears. With a nod, he looked once more to the room filled with professionals working on Bree.

The doctor nodded, then glanced over at Brass and Gil. A nurse inside the room slowly closed the curtains between them.

ppppppppppppp

He sat in the filth of his apartment, wearing nothing but boxers and a t-shirt, holding a half-drunk beer in his hand. His eyes were flicking from one TV screen to another, flicking through channels on each. He couldn't believe the news hadn't already picked up on this and run with it. What was taking them so long? Dumb policeman probably ordered them to keep it under wraps, hoping he would contact them and show his hand. "Sorry, Brass," he thought. "Ain't gonna happen."

A sneer cracked his face. "Maybe you need a little incentive to put this out to the media, eh?" He thought. "We shall see about that."

He moved to the kitchen table, shooing a scraggly looking alley cat out of the way. He picked up a vial of clear-golden fluid and shook it slightly. "Ah, this will be great. Soon, I'll be all over the news."

qqqqqqqqqqqqqqq

"Let me see the panel," the doctor roared. Checking a clipboard with blood values on it, he barked, "Get the bicarb ready." He rushed to her side, looking for a burn-free area on which to place the paddles if necessary. "…potassium," he called over the din in the room, automatically ordering 29 milequivalents IV push as he noted the low index on the electrolyte report.

He looked up at the monitor. "Get the crash cart in here stat! She's bradying down!"

"Rate 35, BP 70/50 palp," the nurse informed. The monitor squealed an alarm.

"Asystole," the doctor roared. "Paddles!" 

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

ACID BATH

My apologies for typing the title in chapter 3 wrong. It is still "Acid Bath" not "Acid Rain". Thanks for all your input. I am pleased you are enjoying this. Keep looking for more in the future.

CHAPTER 4

Sarah and Catherine sat across the kitchen table from Janna as she poured coffee into their waiting cups. "Is there anything you can tell us," Catherine asked. "Something out of the ordinary, perhaps?"

"Yes," Janna said with a slight lisp, undetectable to the untrained ear, but the CSIs immediately noticed it. "There was a plumber." She began. "He came by about 3 o'clock. Said Miss Bree had demanded they come right away to fix a leak in her shower." She took in a shaky breath, tears welling in her eyes. "He was very persistent. I—I felt something wasn't right, but…" she wiped her eyes. "I was afraid she may have forgotten to tell me. She would have been quite unpleased if it wasn't done."

"Why didn't you call to verify," Sara asked.

Janna shrugged. "No time. She was in court and he insisted it was to be done before she got home."

"Were you afraid of what the judge might do if the work wasn't done," Catherine asked.

Janna nodded. "I was afraid she would fire me. Don't get me wrong. She's as nice woman and treats me fairly, but I haven't worked for her long and…"

The two women nodded. "Can you describe him to us?"

Janna thought for a moment. "I—I'm not sure. He was tall, about six feet?" She sighed. "Wore a plumber's uniform, cap and shades. I never got a good look at his face. He had it well covered."

"Any distinguishing features," Sara suggested, "birthmarks or tattoos?"

"Janna frowned, tears again streaming down her face. "I'm sorry. He was just a plumber," she shrugged. " Who pays attention?"

rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

He sat on the front porch of his cabin, tinkering with a faulty carburetor. His long, thin fingers deftly probed around the part as his brown eyes registered each detail. With a sigh, he looked over at the old dune buggy. "Guess you've seen your best days." He tossed the carburetor into a box of spare parts.

The hot desert sun had awakened his thirst, so he rose and went inside for a cold beer. Popping the top, he flipped on the television with a remote. His eyes widened at the picture of the judge displayed on the screen. "The police are not giving any comment at this time as to the extent of her injuries," then newscaster announced. "Now, to other news…" A sinister grin crept over his face.

ssssssssssssssss

Nick Stokes walked into the lab where Warrick Brown leaned over a microscope. A scowl came over Warrick's face as he raised from the study. Nick's smile waned at the look on his partner's face. "No luck?"

"Not much," Warrick grumbled. "We did get one print off the envelope, but it's a partial. Don't know what good it'll do us. Then there's this," he pulled the paper from under the microscope.

Nick looked at the cut and paste job that had been done to form the words. "Now, why couldn't he have been a good boy and used a computer? Or better yet, handwritten it?"

"Yeah. At least we could trace _that_. This is standard newspaper print. Looks like the font used at the Sun. Standard notebook paper, too. You can buy this at any Wal-Mart store. Same with the envelope."

"What about DNA from the stamp or envelope?"

"Don't hold your breath. This guy's slick. He may have used a sponge or glue stick to seal that envelope. The stamp was probably self-adhesive. Most are these days."

"Yeah. Couldn't make our job easy, could he?"

"Maybe Cath and Sara have found something at the scene." Warrick nodded as they moved out of the lab.

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Brass and Gil sat in the waiting area, heads leaned back against the wall. Gil's eyes were closed, but his mind was haunting him with his last sight of Bree. She couldn't die. Not now. She had so much to live for. That friend of hers she was always talking about, for one.

He suddenly sat upright. Had anyone notified him? Would he be coming? He jumped up and moved toward the outer door, waiting until he had cleared it before flipping open his cell phone.

"Where ya goin', Gil?" Brass called from behind him, then shrugged as the doors closed between them. "Guess you'll be back, huh?" He whispered, turning toward the nurses' station. With a sigh, he walked slowly to the nurse on duty. "Anything on her, yet," he asked for the hundredth time.

"Not yet. I promise, Detective, I'll tell you as soon as she comes around. She won't be allowed visitors, except for family, though."

"He is family." Brass nodded to the door as Gil came back through it.

"All right. Then, he'll be able to see her, but only for a few minutes. I'll let you know."

"Thanks."

uuuuuuuuuuuuu

The airplane touched down on the tarmac more quickly than he had expected. He must have dozed, because he didn't remember most of the flight. When the steward aroused him, he ran a hand through his short hair. "Las Vegas, sir," she smiled down at him.

Oh, yes, Las Vegas. It all came rushing back to him now. The phone call he had gotten…the urgency to get here to see what had happened to her. He couldn't just stay there and wait for a report. He had to see for himself.

He rose to his full height and moved out to the taxi stand after retrieving his bag. He grabbed the first available cab, folding himself into the tiny vehicle. "Where to, buddy," the driver asked.

"Spring Valley Hospital," he whispered, his heart tightening inside him at the thought of his friend in that place. "Make it as quickly as you can, please." He requested.

"Sure, buddy. Anything you say,"

He flipped on his phone and made the call, ignoring the cabby altogether.

vvvvvvvvvvvvvv

Catherine flipped off her cell phone and pulled away from the desk as Sara and Nick came through the door. "Cath," Sara began excitedly. "We got a hit off AFIS on that partial. Right in town here."

Catherine took a look at the report on her way toward the door. "Okay, you and Nicky run with it. I have to get to the hospital."

"The hospital," Nick asked. "Has something happened?"

"He's in town."

"He—who?" Nick cocked an eyebrow.

"Her friend." Catherine said cryptically.

"Oh," Sara nodded. "The one from the picture. What does that have to do with you?"

"I think I better be there when he goes in. Gil might not be very well prepared for the meeting."

"But, you told him he was coming, didn't you?"

"Yeah, a while ago. He called to ask."

"Then…"

"Just go ahead. I'll meet you there when I can." She turned back to them. "Oh, and take Warrick with you, okay?"

"Sure," Sara said, slightly annoyed.

wwwwwwwwwww

The day at the cabin grew longer and longer as he waited for his friend to come with the money due him. He thought he would never get out of town at this rate. Pulling another beer out of the refrigerator, he sat down on the couch to enjoy the Gladiators game on the tube.

His cat jumped up on his lap, purring softly and grooming himself while they watched the game together. Finally at half time, a knock came on the door.

"Come in," he hollered. "It's about time you got here." He rose and smiled at his friend. "Want a beer?"

"Sure, why not." His friend answered as he went to the fridge for another one.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

"You can see her now, Mr. Grissom, but only for a minute or so." Brass stood to go in with him. "Just Mr. Grissom. He's family, right."

"Yes, I am, but I would like my friend to go in with me," Gil requested. "It'll be hard enough without having to go in alone."

The nurse sized up these men quickly and nodded. "But just a minute, as I said."

"Certainly." They said, stepping into the ICU unit room where Bree was lying, a tube down her throat and hooked up to a respirator, IV and heart monitor. Her face was partially covered by bandages, as was her left arm and leg. Gil put down his case and opened it, beginning to process her for evidence of any type. He gently combed her hair for particles and checked under her fingernails in case some slivers had gotten under them. He took pictures as Brass lifted the covers, trying not to attract the attention of the charge nurse.

"What are you doing," she bellowed from the hallway. "I thought you said you were family."

"I am," Gil said. "She's my cousin on my father's side." The nurse cocked a wary eyebrow at him. "But, I am also a CSI and we need this evidence." He tried to smile a little, but it only made him look sad. "Do you mind?" She held her place for a moment, then retreated.

As they finished processing her, Catherine stepped to the doorway. "Thought I'd find you here," she stated. "How is she, Gil?"

"Not well. She has pulmonary edema and has experienced cardiac arrhythmias. They brought her back at least once of which I am aware."

"So," a voice came from behind her. "What you're saying is that she still might…" he couldn't bring himself to say the word. He had told thousands of people that their loved ones had died, but when it came to talking about Bree…

"It's possible," Gil looked up from his cousin to see the tall, slender figure who had slipped into the doorway beside Catherine. Gil eyed him like. They looked like two tigers scoping each other out.

yyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy

Sara, Nick and Warrick stood behind the officers as they came to the door of the cabin in the desert outside Las Vegas. The old dune buggy in the yard was the only sign there might be life around the place. When they were all in place, the lead officer hollered, "Police," and knocked on the door. When there was no answer, the officers took a battering ram to the door, breaking it off its hinges.

Sara, Nick and Warrick entered the cabin as the officers cleared each room. A strong odor came up to sting their nostrils, so they held their hands over their mouths. "Mister Fontaine," Nick called. "Las Vegas PD. Come on out." He moved to an unopened door, slowly turning the doorknob. "Be careful," he told himself. "He could be just inside waiting to pounce."

As he shoved open the door, the pungent odor inside assaulted his senses. "Ugh!" he backed away, then the three CSIs together looked inside the bathroom. "Well, this is definitely the source of the odor," Nick said.

Sara pushed through to the bathtub, pulling back the curtain to find him. "Well, he's not going anywhere." She said.

TBC

So, do you know who the mysterious friend is yet? If you can guess, email me and let me know.


	5. Chapter 5

**ACID BATH**

Chapter 5

_Thank you for all of your reviews. I hope you are enjoying this story. Had a busy week and things might be getting busier, so I don't know how soon the next installment will come out. Please continue to read and review. Let me know of any of your fiction that I might like to read. Thanks._

Nick and Warrick dusted the cabin for prints while Sara photographed the man in the bathtub. At first glance, this appeared to be a suicide, but she'd have to wait to hear what Doc Robbins had to say. The long, thin slice across his jugular meant business. She wondered how someone could slit his own throat – and why. Did he get wind that they knew who he was and what he had done?

She reached a gloved hand into the bath water to remove the knife. It was sharpened to scalpel thinness with a long, pearl handle. This looked like a collectors item. Wouldn't get much from this after the soaking it had received, but she'd let Hodges try, anyway.

David stood waiting to take the body, which she gladly gave into his capable hands. "Difficult to accurately predict time of death," he whispered as he jabbed the thermometer deep into the victim's liver. "But, probably within the hour." He stated, nodding for the attendants to take the body away. "Lividity is not fixed and rigor has not set, yet. We'll know more after the autopsy." With that, he walked out, leaving her again to her thoughts.

She slowly scooped the contents out of the tub into a bucket, eyeing it suspiciously for any trace of evidence that might point to something besides suicide. Something felt wrong in this bathroom, but she couldn't place her finger on it. It was as if she was being watched.

She jumped and suppressed a scream as something brushed her ankle. She looked down and smiled at the gentle creature purring by her side. "Hello, there," she said, leaning over to pick up the tabby. "Where did you come from?" She checked the license that hung from the cat's collar. "Good to meet you, Betty Lou Who…." She stroked the trembling kitten's wet fur. Warrick walked to the door.

"Sara, who—" he grinned at the CSI and her new friend. "Oh, I wondered who you were talking to," he nodded. "Where'd you find her?"

"I didn't," Sara explained. "She found me. Betty Lou Who, meet Warrick Brown."

The cat's emerald eyes twinkled as she answered with a "meow."

"So, he the owner," he asked.

Sara shrugged. "Could be. She's awfully damp and shivering."

"You think she's a witness?"

"Yeah. Could be she's our _only_ witness. We'll have to process her for evidence." He nodded as he came forward to pet the poor creature.

zzzzzzzzzzzzz

He sat in his pickup truck watching the cabin and what transpired inside on his laptop computer. The female CSI was easy on the eyes, so he spent lots of time watching her. She looked slightly perplexed. A gratified sigh passed his lips. Wouldn't he like to get hold of her!

The men were rummaging around the house for clues and coming up empty, as he knew they would. He took a sip of his lukewarm beer and raised it to the screen in a salute. "Sorry, Matt," he thought, "I couldn't risk it. But, hey, you'd be in prison if it weren't for me."

His gaze was suddenly transfixed onto the screen again. What was she doing? What did she pick up?

He looked closer, zooming in with a click of the mouse. "That dumb cat," he hissed. He had tried to drown her, but she got out of his grasp and flew out the bathroom door before he could react. Not before getting a few licks of her claws into him, though. He looked at his left forearm, red and bloody from her attack. "Shoulda killed her when I had the chance," he mumbled. Now, he'd just hope they called for Animal Control so he could get her back.

"Meanwhile, he pulled a Jump Card out of his pocket and sneered, "I have another surprise up my sleeve."

AAAAAAAA

Roger walked into his home, his head hanging down and his shoulders drooping. It had been a long day. When they called and told him what had happened to the Judge, he couldn't believe it. They wouldn't let him see her, even though he was her clerk, but he did get a chance to talk to Detective Brass and was filled in on her condition. She was in very serious shape. His heart broke for her. One more thing in a long line of tragedy to befall his boss and friend.

His wife greeted him at the door, a look of concern on her face. Her smile beamed through the café au lait skin tone to try to brighten his demeanor. "Roger," she questioned.

"She's bad, Dixie. I can't describe how much damage was done. She's going to have a long recovery period, if the edema in her lungs doesn't get her first."

"Oh, Baby!" she reached out to hold him in her arms. "I'm so sorry." She let him cry silently on her shoulder for a while. Then, he stood to his full six feet and smiled down on her.

"I need a shower and change. You suppose we could stay in tonight? I don't feel like going to the MGM."

"Sure. Anything you want. I'll order in." He kissed her full, red lips and moved to the bedroom.

She pulled out the Yellow Pages and started rummaging through the restaurants for a good one that she knew would help comfort him, as only food can. "Ah, Thai. His favorite." She dialed the number and listened while it rang. "Thai Chow," the man on the other end answered with a distinctive accent. She began to order the food."

"Is that all, Miss?"

"Yes, I think so, how long before it is here?"

"About 45 minutes."

"Thanks." She rung off and called out to Roger as she walked into the bedroom.

Suddenly, she heard a crash from the bathroom and the unmistakable screams of her husband.

BBBBBBBBBBB

Warrick and Sara arrived in record time, wondering what could have happened to Brina's clerk. They pulled out their bags and headed for the door of the home, as the ambulance crew brought him out on a stretcher, his eyes covered with bandages.

"Just a minute," Warrick said, kneeling down so he could hear better. "Roger, it's Warrick Brown, CSI. What happened?"

"Don't know," he whispered between gasps of air. "Was standing in shower, looking up at the water. Then…" he shuddered, "pain in my eyes. Terrible pain."

"We have to go, now." The paramedic instructed. Warrick nodded and moved toward the door along side Sara.

"Mrs. Marriott," Sara was asking, "what can you tell us?"

"Not much." She wept. "Roger was coming in from work and wanted to take a shower. I ordered Thai in. Then…" she looked over at the ambulance. "Can I go, now?"

"Your in no state to drive, Mrs. Marriott," Warrick said. "I'll have one of the officers take you."

"Thank you."

As she left, Sara raised an eyebrow toward Warrick. "It all happened in the bathroom," Warrick explained.

"Well, that's getting to be a habit. This guy got a cleanliness fixation, do you think?"

"No, I just think he's playing the game and hoping the water will wash away all the evidence. Let's see what we can find."

They walked silently into the bathroom, looking around at the broken glass and blood stained floor. Sara took in a shocked breath as she registered the similarity in this scene from Brina's bathroom. What was happening here? Without a word, they began to look over things in the room. Sara used the ALS on the tub, finding fine glass or plastic fibers, similar to the ones she had found at the judge's house. She swabbed the water in the tub, then stepped in to check the showerhead. Unscrewing it, she gave out a whistle. "Well, look at this," she smirked. "He didn't get the same result as last time." She took a pair of forceps and tweezed out a small vial from the side of the head. Some clear fluid was still inside. "Maybe Mia can find out what this is," she suggested.

"Interesting," Warrick nodded. "Could he be slipping up, or is he testing us?"

"It was poised in such a manner," Sara explained, "that if you were in the shower, looking up at the water, it would go straight into your eyes."

"That's exactly what Roger said he was doing." Sara took one last look with the flashlight and pulled another fiber from the showerhead, placing it into a coin envelope. "Well, we have the same filament fiber, too."

"Then, it's definitely the same perp."

CCCCCCC

Gil and Brass looked over at the man who had breached their solitude. The taller man smiled down upon them slightly. "Hello, Doctor Grissom, Detective Brass," he whispered.

They nodded. "Hello," Gil looked over at the ruddy face and boyish, shy grin. "You just get in?"

The redhead nodded, stepping slightly into the room. The men continued to size one another up. Catherine watched this show of testosterone. They reminded her of roosters at a cockfight. "Glad I'm here," she thought. "I'll have to make sure these three behave themselves in public." She was glad she had called him after she saw the picture of him and Brina in the house. He had boarded the first plane and made really good time, she thought. She finally stepped outside, as she decided the men would be fine together, and went to get some coffee.

Brass and Gil looked over at the newcomer, wondering what to say or do. Brass looked at the others then decided to join Catherine out the door. "If you two boys promise to play nice," he said, "Mommy and Daddy are going to get some coffee."

Gil looked over at Bree's friend and cocked an eyebrow. His gaze was met by a "Grinch Who Stole Christmas" smirk from the other man. "Okay, Dad," Gil whispered with a chuckle. The two men stood across from each other for a long few seconds before Gil finally spoke. "Glad you came, Horatio," he smiled, putting out a hand of friendship.

"Glad I came," Horatio Caine answered as he accepted the handshake.

_So, had you guessed? Oh, by the way, this is a crossover (LOL). Couldn't let you know it advance. That wouldn't have been any fun. (smirk) Let me know what you think. B._


	6. Chapter 6

**ACID BATH**

CHAPTER 6

Haggard and weary, Gil trudged into Headquarters. He knew he should be home asleep, but the case weighed heavily on his mind. Now that Horatio and he had worked out a schedule with Brass to watch over Bree, he and Brass could work and get some much-needed rest. It felt as if a huge weight had lifted off his shoulders.

"What are _you_ doing here?" Ecklie's voice came from behind him.

"Working, of course," Gil answered, annoyed at having to deal with his supervisor so soon. "if that meets with your approval."

"You sure you're up to it," Ecklie responded, a hint of true concern in his voice. "That hospital vigil has to have worn you out."

"I've had worse days," Gil pushed past the man and headed for the front desk to retrieve his messages and mail. He was handed a 5x7-manila envelope with his name on it in sticker letters. "When did this come," he asked and was informed it was hand delivered moments before his arrival. Thanking the receptionist, he headed for his office.

As he entered his workspace, he opened the package and slid out the DVD. "For your viewing and listening pleasure," it read on the cover, again in sticker letters. Gil sighed. Someone was playing games and he wasn't in the mood.

"Nonetheless," he shrugged, "let's see what's on it." He popped the disc into his computer and waited until it loaded. An old-fashioned flickering film title came on the screen. "The Perils of BG," it read. Gil sat up straighter as he watched the screen. His eyes grew wide with horror. His face turned pale, then blushed pink, and then flushed red and then deep crimson with fury as the movie continued. "Son of a…" he yelled as he stood, his chair crashing to the floor behind him. He hit the eject button on the computer, grabbed the disc and raced out of the room, flipping on his cell phone as he did.

DDDDDD

Catherine stood in the toxicology lab waiting for spectrographic analysis of the samples taken in Bree's bathroom. Travis was busy looking in a microscope, quietly contemplating the view before him.

Catherine despised waiting for results. She'd rather be active, searching for a clue or going over a DB with Doc Robbins, but in this case, Bree was not in the morgue. "Thankfully," she thought.

"You know what they say about a watched pot," he grinned at her. She nodded and opened her mouth to speak, just as the spectrograph beeped and spit out an analysis sheet. "And our culprit is…" Travis's eyes grew large as he read the report. "This guy is bad," he whispered, handing the paper to Catherine. "Hydrofluoric acid ----14.5 solution. He meant to kill, not just maim."

"Where would your average person get this stuff?" Catherine queried.

"Except in a lab, you mean? Well, glass etchers use it. It is also found in some rust removers, but one would have to know how to distill it to get this strong a solution."

"Well, our boy isn't stupid, is he?" Catherine shook her head as her cell phone vibrated on her hip. Reading the message, she headed for the door. "Gotta run. Thanks."

"Any time."

EEEEE

Sara walked into the DNA lab and grinned at Mia, who was busy placing samples in a centrifuge. "What have you got," she asked.

Mia smiled over at her. "Hello to you, too." She smirked. "Waiting for the final report on the substance you found in Roger Marriott's bathtub. So far, I can tell you it is definitely animal, not human."

"Not chemical then?"

"Exactly. This time he didn't use an acid."

"He's very clever," Sara frowned.

Mia nodded. "How's the vic doing?"

"Doesn't look good. He may lose his eyesight."

"Rough," Mia murmured as a computer printed out the final analysis. She scanned the sheet quickly. "Wow!"

"What?" Sara took the sheet and scanned it, jerking her head up in shock to stare at Mia. "Cobra venom?"

"Doubled checked." Mia nodded. Sara's cell ringer made her jump. Looking down at it, she nodded. "Thank Mia."

FFFFF 

Nick and Greg had prepared slides for analysis and were now looking intently through their microscopes at them. "So, Nick," Greg started, "I hear Bree has company from Florida."

"Yeah. Don't know if Brass is too thrilled about it, though."

"Really? You think he's got a thing for her?"

"Hard not to see that. He lights up when she is around."

"This has to be tough on him, then."

"Yeah, I guess. It would be for me."

"Then this tall, thin, pretty boy from Florida shows up. Can't make it very pleasant for him."

"Umm---" Nick studied the image before him. This looks like glass, Greg."

"Well, we'll know shortly. Waiting for analysis now." A beep caught their attention. Greg pulled a sheet of paper from the machine beside him. "And you win the prize! 100 glass." Pagers went off and they quickly deposited their evidence in a bag as they left the lab.

GGGGG

"What have you got for me, Doc," Warrick asked as he and Doc Robbins moved toward the table. The naked body of the cabin victim lay in front of them.

"Meet Matthew 'Mac' Fontaine, all around low-life, hustler and hood for hire. Rap sheet as long as the Vegas Strip."

"That's not surprising. We figured he was into something illegal."

"Well, he paid dearly for it."

'So, you're saying this wasn't a suicide?"

"Exactly. Take a look." Doc pointed to the slit on Fontaine's neck. "No hesitation marks. Someone who is going to cut his own throat would hesitate, from the pain if nothing else."

"Well, he had been drinking…"

"Blood alcohol was 0.8, a couple of beers could have done that. Not enough to deaden the nerve that much."

"So, we're looking for another killer?" Warrick rubbed the back of his neck.

"Looks that way. He sat in the tub and didn't fight back. I suspect he wasn't even expecting an attack."

Warrick nodded as his pager went off. "Gotta go. Thanks Doc."

HHHHH

Gil sat in the audiovisual lab as the tech worked to extract any evidence he could from the DVD. The room was hushed and solemn as they viewed it over and over.

Catherine, Sara, Greg, Nick and Warrick entered together, curious and questioning looks on their faces. The tension in the room was palpable. "What's up, Boss," Nick asked for them all.

"Got this when I came in today," Gil replied through gritted teeth. "Take a look." The clip was run once more for their benefit.

The ladies slowly lowered themselves into chairs, looks of horror on their faces. Nick clamped his jaw shut, a nerve jumping on the side of his face. Warrick's eyes grew angry and Greg closed his to shut out the horror of the scene.

They watched as Bree entered her bathroom, disrobed, entered the shower and the horrible consequences of the maniacal and diabolical stunt played out before them. Sara held her stomach in hopes of not throwing up. Catherine shook with rage. "The S.O.B. had actually taped his handiwork," she thought. Then the realization hit her. That meant she and Sara had missed something while processing the scene.

Gil turned to look at her, a flicker of anger still in his eyes. "Gil, I---"

"didn't find anything at the scene?" he finished for her quietly. She hated it when he got quiet. It meant trouble.

"We didn't expect anything like this. We didn't know what to look for…" she tried to apologize.

"You and Sara get back out there and go through every inch of that place. Don't come back until you've exhausted every possibility."

The ladies got up to leave, but Sara turned around in the doorway. "Grissom," she stated, "when we were at the cabin, I got the distinct impression I was being watched. I thought it was the cat, but…"

"Okay. Greg, you and Nick check it out. Warrick…"

"The Marriott home. On it."

IIIIII

Mrs. Marriott stepped into her house, thumbing through the mail as she walked. "Junk mail and bills," she sighed, "but…what's this?" She held a 5x7 manila envelope in her hand. Her name was printed in sticker letters on the front, but there was no postmark. It looked as if it were hand delivered.

She opened the package, pulling out a DVD. "For your viewing and listening pleasure" was on the cover in those same sticker letters.

She moved to the den, putting the DVD in the player and turning on the TV.

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, but I LOVE them all. Hope you are all enjoying these chapters and please, feel free to review, good or bad. Need all your input.

**ACID BATH**

CHAPTER 7

Horatio Caine sat quietly watching the slow, rhythmic up and down of Brina's chest as she slept. The doctor had extubated her not more than an hour ago and he was relieved to see her breathing on her own.

His eyes moved to her burned and distorted face. She would need major reconstructive surgery. He wished he could get involved in the investigation, but it was not his jurisdiction. Besides, Grissom had promised to keep him in the loop.

Detective Brass wasn't too keen on that idea, though. In fact, he didn't seem too happy to see Horatio there at all. Was it just concern for a friend or could there be something deeper happening? Bree had mentioned the detective, but only in passing and only regarding his being a witness in her courtroom once in a while.

He looked up at her eyes and smiled. The hazel orb, which was visible, stared back at him. He had waited anxiously for her to awaken. Now that she had, he could think of nothing to say. He gripped her hand between his, stood and sat gently on her beside.

"Hello, there," he whispered. She stared at him, confusion tugging at her forehead and shining through her eyes.

"H---?" she raped through her sore throat. "---what?"

"Take it easy, Bree," he reached to brush her hair away from her eyes. She looked into his ice blue eyes and attempted a smile, raising a hand to his cheek.

"H. Is it really you?"

He closed his eyes for a moment at her touch, then opened them. "Yes. I'm here. Couldn't keep me away." The look of confusion grew as did the painful grimace on her face. "You don't know what happened, do you?" She shook her head."What's the last thing you remember?"

"Shower. I was going to shower before Brass and I went to dinner."

"Oh," Horatio looked down for a moment.

"He was guarding me from a stalker. I had plans for dinner, so he was to accompany me." She explained. Horatio searched her eyes for a moment and nodded.

"Okay. What happened next?"

"I remember stepping into the shower and then tremendous pain. That's all."

Horatio nodded, taking her hand in his once more. It was going to be terrible for her to hear, but it would be better coming from him, if not from Grissom. With a deep breath, he began explaining what they had found at the crime scene. "They're still testing the substance in the bathtub," he finished.

Dr. Cowen entered quietly behind Horatio. He stood back while the couple continued their conversation. "Tell me the truth," Brina whispered. "How bad is it?"

Horatio looked deep into her pain-filled eyes. He caressed her cheek lightly before he replied. "You were assaulted with hydrofluoric acid, Miss Grissom," Doctor Cowen spoke as he came up alongside Horatio. Horatio looked at the doctor questioningly. "We just heard from the CSI lab. It was a 14.5 solution."

The gasp that involuntarily escaped Horatio's lips shook Brina. She squeezed his hand for comfort. "What does that mean," she asked.

Horatio's fear shown in his pale blue eyes as he looked at her. It means he meant to kill you." his eyes grew moist with the tears he fought to hold back. "

"And he nearly succeeded." It came out more as a croak than a whisper.

"Your lungs were filled with fluid," the doctor went on. "We thought you might not make it. You have burns over a good portion of your left side as well as facial burns and lacerations."

"My eye," she asked, reaching to touch the patch over her left orbit.

"We aren't sure of the extent of the damage, yet. The cornea was lacerated and the lid was badly burned. That's why we have the patch on it. As for your face and other skin…" She touched the gauze bandage that covered the left side of her face. "You will need facial reconstruction and probably skin grafts on your trunk and extremities. It's going to take quite a while to heal."

"I want her to have the best Plastics has to offer," Horatio spoke.

"Understandable. We have good men here."

"But Miami has the best---and she'd be treated by people who have known her for a long time."

"She couldn't be alone, Mr. Caine. Would she have someone to stay with her?"

"You bet she would," Brass spoke from the doorway. Horatio turned and eyed him, a hint of mistrust in his gaze.

"Of course she would. She'll stay with me."

"And who's gonna care for her while you're at work," Brass countered.

"If needed, I can get a nurse to stay with her."

"Nursing is all right for her physical needs, but whose gonna protect her from this nut job?"

"I suppose you have someone in mind?" Horatio questioned.

"Darn right I do." Brass thumped his chest, coming into the room and to the other side of Brina's bed. "Me."

"You've got a job, too," Horatio countered.

"Well, don't you worry your skinny red head about that. Got lots of time on the books. I'll talk time off as soon as she is fit to travel."

"Guys," Brina interrupted. "Stop it!. We can work this out peaceably in the next few days."

"That's right," Dr. Cowmen agreed. "Now, if you gentlemen will excuse us for a minute, I'd like to examine my patient."

Horatio and Brass reluctantly left the room, heading down he hall to the waiting area. They sat across from each other, continuing their conversation. "Tell me why I should trust her safety to your hands," Horatio began.

"You think you could have done a better job," Brass contested.

"You should have had the house thoroughly checked."

"And I suppose _you_ would have examined the shower heads? Nobody has ever been attacked in that fashion. It came from left field."

"And none of us would have thought of that," Grissom spoke from the hallway. "So why don't you two quit beating your chests and start working together? Bree needs us to work as a team, not at each other's throats."

JJJJJJ

Nick and Greg entered the cabin together, turning on their individual flashlights to search every crevice of the building. They scoured the kitchen and living room separately, ending at the bathroom door together. Their flashlights illuminated the room totally, as they looked over the ventilation system and light fixtures. "You know," Greg finally spoke, "Sara thought that the was being watched in here, but she thought it was that cat."

"Yeah. I wonder if they've processed her yet."

Greg flipped open his cell phone and waited for the call to ring through. "Mia," Greg asked, "did we get that DNA from the cat that Sara brought in?"

He waited a moment, a question covering his face. "You didn't get it? Did the cat get to the lab?" After a moment he thanked her and rung off. "The cat never made it to the lab."

"Better call Animal Control and see if they have her," Nick said, picking up his own phone while pointing toward a light fixture in the corner. "Why don't you check out that light."

While Nick called Animal Control, Greg stood up on the commode in order to get a good look at the light in question. He slowly removed the cover, placing it on the back of the commode. Slowly, he took a pair of forceps out of his pocket and pulled on an odd wire within the lip of the cover. He recognized it immediately, and jumped down to the floor to show it to Nick. "Look at this," he started. Seeing the look on Nick's face, he stopped cold.

"The cat never made it to Animal Control."

"That can only mean one thing…"

"Yes. The killer has a uniform and is willing to use it to get what he wants. We better tell Brass."

KKKKK

Warrick pulled up at the Marriott house, checking his information once more. He hated to be the bearer of bad news, but knew he didn't want to give it over the phone either. A face to face was the only way to give this kind of news.

He stood at the door, looking to make sure Mrs. Marriott's car was there. She was definitely inside. He could hear what sounded like water running.

He took a deep breath, rubbing his palm across the nape of his neck. As he reached for the doorbell, a scream pierced the air.

LLLLL

Catherine stood in the bathroom at Brina's house, getting a good visual inventory of her surroundings. To her left was the vanity, then the commode. At the far back wall stood the shower/bathtub with its broken doorway. On her right were the folding doors to the linen closet. "Now, she murmured. "Where would someone put cameras in here?" There was only one vent, directly above the commode. She closed the lid and stood on it, extracting a screwdriver from her kit to open the vent.

Turning her flashlight on the dark space, she slowly searched every crevice. The light flickered against a small, bulb-like, glassy-appearing object at the side of the ventilation shaft. She pulled out her tweezers and grasped the object, bringing it down to full light. A small box dangled from a wire attached to the bulb. She reached for her kit as she dismounted, dusting the object for prints before placing it into an evidence back.

She then dusted the vent cover, giving a sigh when she discovered no prints on either object.

Studying the room again, she reasoned, "This explains the video from here, but---" she moved into the bathtub, "the angle in the shower footage was directly overhead. That means…"

She looked up at the light above the bathtub. A rumble, crash and Sara's scream of agony from the bedroom stopped her in her tracks.

MMMMM

His breath came in short gasps of excitement as he watched from the doorway, guarding her from intruders. He shook his head as he continued to survey her busily checking every crevice for devices. A smirk stole over his lips. She would never find the equipment he had so carefully placed throughout the bedroom and bath. The pieces were so small they could fit anywhere, and did so gracefully.

The dark haired one was eyeing a lamp on the bed stand. Did she see it, he wondered. As she started to pull the shade off the light, he reached behind him for the baton he wore. He clasped his hand around it as he scanned the outer rooms for any other policemen. He then stole his way into the room behind her.

She was so intense in her work that she hadn't noticed his movement into the room. He raised the baton above his head. As he began to swing, she turned toward him, raising her hand in defense. He heard the glass lamp shatter and felt the baton hit its target.

NNNNNN

Brina lay soaking in the bath, her first luxury since that fateful day. She hummed a quiet tune as the bubbles wrapped around her weary frame.

It seemed like only yesterday that she had awakened to the wonderful sight of Horatio at the hospital. How she managed to get home so soon was beyond her. The sounds of pans clashing in the kitchen made her feel secure in the fact Horatio was there. She wouldn't want to be alone right now.

An orchestra somewhere in the distance was playing a Beethoven symphony. She smiled again. Horatio knew her all too well. This was her comfort music and she was sure he was fixing her favorite comfort food --- teriyaki chicken skewers --- as well. What a joyful way to spend a day at home.

But with all this, something seemed out of place. It was as if she was being watched. She looked around the bathroom. Nobody was there, yet the uneasiness built. She slid deeper into her pool of bubbles, trusting them to relax her.

Suddenly, strong hands gripped her shoulders and pushed her head under the water. She scratched and clawed at the unseen menace, realizing the "Bathtub Killer", as the media had dubbed him, was back to finish the job.


	8. Chapter 8

**ACID BATH**

CHAPTER 8

Brass stood at the entrance to Brina's home, once again watching as a friend and colleague was placed into an ambulance. Thankfully, Sara didn't appear to be badly injured, but they'd have to await the x-rays and doctor's exam to be certain. Catherine trembled at his side. He could see the anger in her eyes, but also a tinge of fear and guilt playing around the edges. He knew she felt responsible, just as he did for Bree's condition. This was the second attack in this house by what appeared to be the same lunatic. When he got his hands on that creep ---

"Let's go, Brass," Catherine broke into his thoughts. "I don't want Gil hearing about this from the nursing staff."

"Yeah. Okay. Can't do much from here anyhow." He moved toward his vehicle, Catherine following behind to her own. "You go with her. I need to get back to HQ."

"How did that slime ball get inside the house with all those cops around," Catherine asked.

Brass grimaced. "I don't want to think about it," he stated. "The only way would be if he was ---"

"A cop," Catherine finished. "Or at least dressed like one."

MMMMM

Warrick and the police officer accompanying him moved through the half-opened doorway into the Marriott's home. The foyer was large with a chandelier lighting its parquet floor. A small table sat at the right of the door with letters strewn upon it. Warrick listened closely for a moment, realizing that the noise he had heard at the door was coming from the left.

Walking through the doorway, he rushed to Mrs. Marriott's side. She sat on the floor, white as a sheet, groaning and rocking herself back and forth. "Mrs. Marriott," he asked, putting his hands on her shoulders. "Mrs. Marriott," he whispered as he took her hands in his. "Mrs. Marriott?" He turned to the officer for a moment. "Get an ambulance." He then looked in the direction of her eyes, seeing the video that she had been watching.

NNNNN

Horatio walked through the doors at the CSI lab. He knew he might not be welcome, as he was out of his jurisdiction, but he had to do something besides sit around. He hoped he would be able to help the staff understand something of what might be happening.

Brass was standing at the front desk, going over some pictures with Nick and Greg, when Horatio walked up. Brass stood up a little taller, anxious as to why this man was intruding on them. He knew that Horatio was a friend of Brina's, but he didn't like the fact. He wanted to know more than he did about Horatio. Even though they had met in the past as colleagues, something about Horatio's being a friend of Brina's bothered him. He couldn't put his finger on why he felt this way, but he was very protective of her and wouldn't let anything else happen to her, if he had the ability to stop it.

He was looking at pictures of the fiber that was found in Brina's showerhead. The lab crew had not been able to positively identify it, but it appeared to be some sort of detonation device. With the information they now possessed about the cameras in the bathroom, the perp must have been watching from a distance of some kind. He must have pressed a button to detonate the acid-filled vial. Still, who was this man and what did he have against Brina?

"Brass," Horatio nodded toward him, trying not to let his feelings toward this crude man get to him. "I've come to help in whatever way I can."

"Help?" Brass cocked an eyebrow. "What makes you think we need your help?"

"Perhaps it isn't so much that you need my help as that I need to help, if that meets with your approval."

"Great," Nick said. "We could use all the help we can get."

"Then," Horatio stuck out a welcoming hand; "I am at your service."

"I understand from Brass that you are an explosives expert." Nick continued, handing him the photographs. "Can you tell me what this is?"

Horatio looked at the picture for a moment and nodded, whispering, "It's a very sophisticated detonator, used mostly by terrorists. Where was this found?"

"In Judge Grissom's bathroom by Sara Sidle," Greg informed. "We thought it might be a detonator of some type, but weren't sure."

"And that _would_ mean she was being watched at the time of the attack," Brass growled.

OOOOO

Brina gasped harshly as she was pulled upward by strong yet gentle hands. Coughing wrecked her sides as she tried to open frightened eyes. "Brina," Grissom called through her fog. "Brina Jane Grissom," his insistent tone pierced its way through the nightmare. "Wake up! Breathe!" One hand left her shoulders momentarily. She heard a nurse's voice come over the intercom. "Get a doctor in here fast," he ordered. "She can't breathe!" The free hand went to her face, patting her cheek gently. "Brina," he whispered as tears rolled down his face.

Her eyes fluttered open, the orbs rolling from side to side. Another harsh gasp and round of coughing arose from her lungs as he pulled her up into his arms. She buried her head in his chest, clinging to his shirt with all her strength. Tremors rumbled through her body in waves of sudden relief as tears washed down her cheeks.

"Oh, Gilly," she whispered his childhood nickname. His arms wrapped around her like a thick winter comforter as he whispered into her hair.

"It's all right, Bree," his eyes closed as with the struggle to hold back his own tears. "I'm here."

"I thought," she gasped, "I was drowning,"

"It was only a dream. You're safe now."

The nurse stood back watching this exchange and preparing to listen to Brina's lungs. Bree looked up at Grissom, batting her eyes quizzically. "A – a dream?" She looked around and realization entered her puzzled face. The speaking between gasps of air, "I – I'm still ----in the hospital?" Grissom nodded. "Horatio," she asked.

"At your place getting some rest." Brina took in another gasp of air, trying to relax her own breathing. Grissom's brow furrowed with concern as the nurse checked her pulse and respirations. She pulled the nasal cannula off its perch near the bed and quickly placed it in Brina's nostrils as the doctor arrived.


	9. Chapter 9

**ACID BATH**

Chapter 9

"Why," Mrs. Marriott asked, looking away from the video screen after a moment. "Why would someone be so cruel?"

Warrick helped her from the floor to sit on the sofa. "We don't know yet, but we are doing all we can to find this guy." After long moments of silence, he continued. "How did you get this tape?"

"It --- it was in the mail…appeared to be hand delivered," she stammered.

"Same as before," he muttered and frowned.

"Someone else got one of these?"

"Gil Grissom, the judge's cousin."

Mrs. Marriott's hand went to her mouth in surprise. "That poor man," she sympathized. "It must have devastated him."

PPPPP

The resident listened to the gurgles in Brina's lungs and then to her sluggish heart sounds. "One hundred percent O2 mask," he ordered.

"BP 215/160, doctor," the nurse announced.

"Digoxin 400 micrograms IV and start her on Coreg 3.125 mg b.i.d.," he turned to Grissom. "What happened?"

"I—I don't know. She was sleeping. She said something about drowning when she woke up gasping. I thought it was just a nightmare, but her breathing—"

"Sometimes a person's physical symptoms in corporate themselves into their dreams," the resident informed. "The PE is recurring. I don't know how much more of this her heart can take."

"Doctor—" the nurse called sharply as they placed Brina on a heart monitor, "v-tach!

"Someone page Dr. Cowen," the resident ordered. He then nodded to another nurse, who gently pushed Grissom out into the hallway, guiding him to the waiting area.

"You'll have to wait here," she instructed.

"But—"

"We're doing what we can. I'll come back for you as soon as she's stable."

QQQQQ

Catherine rushed into the ER behind the stretcher Sara lay on, visions of head trauma ticking away in her mind. Sara had to be all right. She was like the daughter Grissom never had. If anything happened to her—

"Doctor Cowen to ICU stat," the voice on the PA system interrupted her thought. Catherine froze in her tracks. That was Judge Grissom's doctor. Had something else happened?

In her mind, she knew she should stay with Sara, but her heart wanted to be with Gil. They had been friends for a long time. Instinctively, she knew he needed her support. She packed through the glass doors of the treatment room to see Sara was awake, an irritated look on her face. They made eye contact and Sara mouthed one word, "Go." She must have heard the page, too. After informing the desk nurse where she would be, Catherine ran for the nearest elevator, getting off at ICU.

She stopped short at the waiting room door, watching Gil's heaving shoulders, realizing something was very wrong. She had never seen the Bugman like this, not even when Nick was buried alive. They called him "Gruesome Grissom" at the lab. They would have changed their tune quickly at seeing this side of him.

Finally, her legs came back to life as she crossed to the sofa, reaching out a hand to touch his shoulder. He stood and turned away, quickly moving to peer out the windows and down to the parking lot. "Gil," she whispered, not needing to say more. Because of their deep friendship, he could read the word for what it was—comfort and question in one. He bowed his head and sighed, wiping lingering tears away with his thumb.

"The nurse sent me out," he began. "I—I can't just sit here. I've got to know what's happening."

"What happened?"

"She woke up gasping for air. The resident said the pulmonary edema had recurred."

Catherine knew if they couldn't get the swelling in her lungs under control, it would effect Brina's heart. She could even die. They had to find the person responsible. Catherine also needed to get Gil focused on something other than his fear, but how was she going to tell him the latest news?

RRRRR

He watched her as she came through the door, such a striking woman in her navy pin-striped suit. She kicked off her red four inched spiked heels, pulling her curly red hair up in a bun as she did so. Her muscles rippled through her arms as she pulled off the jacket, hanging it really on a wooden hanger, then pulling off the skirt and clipping it to the rod beneath the jacket. Her lacy white blouse she pulled off and tossed into the hamper along with her silky bra and briefs.

Pulling on a dark silk robe, she checked herself in the mirror. She was such a Venus in the nude, he could hardly contain himself. He took a long, silent breath to contain his emotions.

He could hear water running in the background as she moved from the bedroom to the bathroom. He watched as she disrobed and made her way slowly down into the water. Turning off spigots as she did. Steam rose from the bubbly water as she immersed herself completely into its soothing foam.

xxxxxxx

Hope you enjoy this chapter. I will continue soon. Please continue to review and let me know anything, good or bad, you see in this.


	10. Chapter 10

My apologies for taking so long to get the next installment to you. I have been working and haven't had much time. I think I also had a small writer's block going. Hopefully, this chapter will get me back on the right track. Enjoy.

**ACID BATH**

**CHAPTER 10**

The elevator ride to the ICU was uncomfortable in more ways than one for Sara. She had met Warrick on the way to the elevator, and they rode up together, along with Brass and Horatio. The two older men had arrived in a hurry after receiving a call from Catherine regarding Brina's condition. Neither man looked at the other. The tension in the elevator car was palpable.

The pain in Sara's head kept her from saying much. Warrick had attempted a light conversation, but soon fell silent to this somber atmosphere. They fell in line one behind the other like a family of geese, Brass leading the way, then Horatio, Sara and Warrick, and marched directly into the waiting area where Catherine could be heard trying to console Grissom.

Brass's heart constricted as he listened to them. Horatio bowed his head, subconsciously trying to build up the wall he had developed years earlier to shield himself from pain. Sara turned to look at Warrick quizzically and Warrick shrugged his reply.

"I'm sure she'll be all right, Gil," Catherine said. "They're doing the best they can."

"What happened," Brass asked as he rushed into the area.

Gil looked up, eyes red with silent tears. "She had a relapse of pulmonary edema with cardiac involvement," Catherine informed. "Dr. Cowen is with her now."

Horatio sat on the edge of a sofa quickly as his legs gave way. Brass grit his teeth and balled his fists, looking for something—anything—to pound.

Gil's eyes turned from the men to Sara, a look of concern covering his face after noticing the bandage wrapped around her forehead. "What happened to you," he asked.

"Oh, just our ever-friendly perp making his presence known at the judge's house," she answered, trying to make light of her injuries. "No big deal."

"No big deal," Grissom roared as he took the space between them in a second, eyeing her for any signs of distress. "You could have been killed! Where was your security?" Brass winced as Grissom's angry eyes turned on him, then on Catherine. "Where was your partner?"

Sara's anguished look gave Catherine all the leverage she needed to answer. "I was in the bathroom and Sara was in the bedroom doing our jobs. As for where our security was, apparently he _was_ our security."

Grissom looked from her to Sara and back. "He---what?"

VVVVV

The lab was busy as always, everyone going his separate direction. The busy pace made for a noisy hallway and entry. Everyone was busy with his own project and paying little attention to who was coming and going. The receptionist was on the phone when he arrived, so he waited patiently for her to ring off. Handing her the package, he smiled disarmingly. "This is to be given to Sara Sidle. She said it was urgent."

"I'll be sure she gets it when she comes back," the receptionist acknowledged, signing for the package.

"Thank you." He nodded and turned on his heel, headed for the door, a smirk on his face.

WWWWW

Grissom sat staring at a spot on the carpet for a long moment after he was completely briefed by the five people sitting with him. It was almost inconceivable to him that this person could be a policeman, but the facts were there. How they were going to apprehend him was another story. They had nothing that would point them in the right direction. Finally, he looked up at his group. "Has anyone spoken to Brina's clerk yet?"

They all shook their heads. "We have been waiting for him to improve." Warrick informed. "I got the call as I was coming in with Mrs. Marriott."

"Then Catherine, you and I will go interview him." Grissom stood and stretched to his height. "I think it would be better if he talked to me, since we know each other." The others agreed with nods. "Horatio, if you would stay here and contact me when we are allowed to go into her again?"

"Of course, Doctor." Horatio smiled compassionately.

"I think I'll hang around for a while too," Brass offered. "I'm off the clock anyhow."

"We're going back to the lab," Sara said as she nudged Warrick toward the doorway. "See if we can get a line on the equipment he used."

XXXXX

Nick stared at the vent cover he and Greg had taken back to the lab through a lighted magnifying glass. He was trying desperately to find any kind of trace evidence that could open this case up for Grissom's sake, if not anyone else's.

Greg sat next to Nick, dusting for prints on the light fixtures. He new this was probably an exercise in futility. After all, anyone clever enough to pass himself off as Animal Control of a Police officer was clever enough not to leave evidence behind. But, they had to try, didn't they? He turned toward Nick as the older CSI let out an exasperated sigh. Nick opened his mouth to speak, then closed it for just a moment.

"Wait a second," he finally said. "What's this?" He reached for a swab and dabbed it into a brownish substance on the vent grill. Using a drop of phenolphthalein on the swab, he smiled. "Blood. Perhaps we can get DNA off this."

"Way to go Nicky!" Greg applauded. "Now, let's see if this will give us anything." He held up a card on which he had taped a fingerprint. "Maybe the perp just made his first mistakes." They both smiled, rushing out the door.

YYYYY

Sara stopped by reception on her way into the lab to check messages. "This arrived for you by FedEx today," the receptionist handed her the box.

"Thanks, Joyce," She looked at the address. It was written in block letter, like those of a child. The handwriting reminded her of her goddaughter. She wondered what the child might have sent her. Heading for the lounge, she poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down at the table to open her gift.

"Hey, Sar," Warrick said as he entered for his own pick-me-up. "What you got there?"

"Don't know. This looks like my goddaughter's writing. Wonder what she would be sending me."

"I'm sure it is something you will enjoy." He smiled as he turned toward the coffee pot, pouring a steaming cup for himself. "Haven't heard anything regarding the equipment yet. Have you?"

His only answer was a crash of a chair hitting the ground.


	11. Chapter 11

**ACID BATH**

**CHAPTER 11**

Warrick swung around to stare at Sara's ghostly pale face. Her dark eyes were wide with fright, a hand firmly clasped over her mouth as she stared at the contents of the package. "Sara," he took a step toward her. "What's wrong?"

She rushed around the table, pushing past him to the nearby trashcan. Her head barely made it over the container before bile spewed from her throat.

Warrick walked over to the box to see what had elicited such a strong response from the generally strong-willed young lady. The sight made him close his eyes momentarily to gather his own wits. Inside the box lay the kitten they had found in the cabin, a look of sheer terror on its tiny face. The creature was in full rigor, apparently from exsanguination. The only thing missing were her paws. A note lay across the kitten's midsection written in newspaper type. 'Missing something?" it taunted. He read the disturbing note, then pulled the lid back over the box.

Two quick strides brought him back to Sara's side, handing her a wet cloth with which to wash her face. He placed a soothing hand on her shoulder, feeling her tense muscles quiver under his touch.

"I'm all right," she whispered as she raised up from the trashcan. Turning around, her legs wobbled under her. Warrick's strong arms caught her in a protective embrace.

"I think you better sit down," he motioned to another chair and helped her seat herself. "I'll be right back," he said, scooping the unwanted package up. "You stay here and relax."

Sara nodded, a weak smile of thanks pulling at the corners of her mouth.

ZZZZZ

Grissom and Catherine walked into Mister Marriott's room and quietly introduced themselves to his wife, who sat near his bedside. She nodded in response as Roger turned over in bed to greet them. His eyes were covered in bandages. His cheeks were still puffy from his ordeal. He sounded weary when he spoke, yet he held out a hand and offered a beaming smile. "Mister Grissom," he acknowledged.

"Sorry about your attack." Grissom sympathized.

Roger grimaced. "I understand I'm not the only one who was attacked," he began. "How's the judge?"

Grissom took a deep breath. "Holding her own. The doctors are with her, now."

"Sorry," Roger said. "She's family, isn't she?"

"Yes. My cousin."

Roger nodded. "She speaks of you frequently. She's very proud of your accomplishments."

"Kind of you to say so." Gil nodded and took a chair as Catherine moved to the other side of the bed.

"We'll try not to tire you, Mister Marriott," Catherine began. "We want you to know we think the two attacks were perpetrated by the same person. Can you think of anyone who would want you both out of the picture?"

Roger gave a small snort. "You're kidding, right? Only about a thousand people. We work in criminal court, Ms. Willows. Anyone we sent to prison could want us dead. You'll have to pull her case files to figure out which one it could be."

"We've already started the process. It's going to take a while."

"Did you get the anonymous letter? Were there any prints?"

"Yes, but by time we got to the writer's house, he was dead." Grissom informed. "It appears he was in league with someone else." Roger bowed his head.

"Unfortunate, to say the least. I understand my wife got a nasty tape recording from the perp."

"Yes. I did too. Not something I'd like to see twice."

"He sent you a video of Ms. Grissom?"

Grissom took a deep breath and nodded. "Yes. It wasn't a pleasant sight."

"What can you tell us about the people who come into your courtroom on a regular basis."

"Again, that's a lot of people. I wouldn't know where to start."

"Have you always had the same stenographer and bailiff?"

"No, but none of them left under bad circumstances. I wish I could help you more, but I can't think of any reason why anyone close to the judge or myself would be involved in something like this."

"So, it comes down to the defendants or their families. That's a lot of people." Catherine whispered. They all sighed their frustration.

&&&&&

Nick and Greg sat at their computers running the prints through CODIS and AFIS respectively while they awaited the DNA results from the lab. "So," Greg began as he looked over his computer at his partner. "What do you think is going on with Brass and Brina?"

"What?" Nick said, coming out of his own thoughts.

"You know," Greg grinned. "You think there's any…"

"No. No way. Brass is too smart to get involved with a judge, especially one he has been guarding."

"You sure?" Greg tilted his head to the side. "Have you seen the way he looks at her? Noticed the way he looks when he sees her picture or the sound of his voice when he speaks her name?"

"I think you've been sniffing something, Greg." Nick snickered. "Brass isn't interested in her like that. No way."

"And I'm not the best lab rat in the house," Greg said. Nick opened his mouth to answer, but Greg's computer bleeped them to silence. "I got a hit," he smiled. "Well, well. Looks like a defense attorney has been a bad girl." He pointed at the picture on screen as Nick made his way around to look over his shoulder. "Attorney Carol Zukermann. Here's her address."

"Very good. We need to check her against the list of attorneys who have been in Judge Grissom's courtroom recently."

"And while you do that," Greg smiled, "I'll check on the DNA."

"No need," Mia said from the doorway. "I got results. The DNA is not in the system."

"So, that means it isn't from a criminal. Wonder if it might be this attorney's DNA?"

"Guess we'll find out soon." Nick said, patting Greg's shoulder as he headed for the door. "Come on partner. Let's get with this lady."

&&&&&

Brina lay quietly sleeping, her hand being held on either side by Horatio and Brass. Brass had been staring over at Horatio for some time, wanting to ask, but afraid of the answer. Horatio kept his head down watching Brina's breathing when he wasn't watching the heart monitor, blipping overhead. He finally looked over at Brass. "You don't like me much, do you?"

"Not particularly."

"Why?"

"I—I don't know. Something bothers me about you."

"Could it be my relationship with Brina?"

"What exactly _is _your relationship with Bree?" Brass bristled and braced himself for the answer he knew would hurt.

"Very simply, she's my foster sister."

"She's what?" Brass's jaw dropped in surprise.

"Her father died when she was 15. My parents took her in as a foster child. That's how we met. I love her like a sister."

Brass blushed and dropped his eyes. "I'll be darned." He whispered. "And I thought—"

"You thought we were more than just friends," Horatio said. "I figured that was it, but I wanted to be sure."

"Then, you and she aren't an item?" Brass had to be sure, too. He still couldn't get it through his head that they were family. "Why didn't Grissom ever mention it?"

"Family business. You know how close to the vest Gil plays everything, especially when in regard to his family." Brass nodded as Grissom entered the room.

"Brass, you're needed downtown." He informed. "I'll sit with her for a while." Brass got up slowly, kissing her on the forehead before he left.

Horatio watched the tough guy leave the room. "You suppose he'll ever tell her how he feels?" He asked Grissom.

"Probably not."

&&&&&

Brass, Greg and Nick arrived at the apartment at the same time. Brass knocked several times on the door before trying the doorknob, which opened readily. He announced them as they entered. He gave Greg and Nick a funny look as they moved into the room. The pungent odor of iron wafted to their nostrils. Immediately, the three men moved toward the bathroom as they cleared the scene with a couple of officers.

"Ms. Zukermann," Brass called again. "Police. We need to speak to you."

Nick knocked on the bathroom door. When he got no answer, he turned the doorknob. "Locked. We need to break into this, Brass."

Brass nodded and the two officers kicked the door down. They quickly removed themselves, hands over their mouths, running out the front door. Brass raised an eyebrow of curiosity as the rancid smell of iron grew stronger in their nostrils. The three men looked into the bathroom as Brass turned on the light. "I hate to say this," Greg said, "but we've hit another dead end."


	12. Chapter 12

Please forgive the time it has taken to get this out to you all. I have been having major problems with my computer, but think I have them all taken care of now. Hope you enjoy this chapter and come back for more. Beckaboo

**ACID BATH**

**CHAPTER 12**

**Grissom and Horatio stood as Warrick and Sara entered the hospital room. Brina was sleeping soundly, so they took the moment to invite the new couple inside and get an update on the case. "What have you got," Grissom asked.**

"We found the cat," Sara began, closing her eyes at the through of the poor, mutilated creature. "Unfortunately, she's dead and her paws have been removed."

Grissom cocked an eyebrow. "Where was she found?"

"She was hand delivered. The package is being processed now. The body is with Doc Robbins."

"Warrick?"

"The cameras are high end surveillance equipment like the CIA uses. He'd have to get them at a specialty shop. We're tracing the manufacturer and distributors now."

"Prints?"

"No leads there. The perp is having some fun with us, Gris. The prints at Brina's were Mister Marriott's and prints at the Marriott's house were Brina's."

Grissom sighed. Looks like it may be a circular trail. His having us double back on ourselves. He could be long gone by time we figure out who he is."

"Don't get discouraged, Gil," Brass said as he leaned against the doorway. "We're going through all Brina's cases that involved any of the victims and have been checking the backgrounds of all of them to see if we can find connections."

"Nick and Greg are headed for a defense attorney's home right now." Warrick informed. "Her prints were on the paper used to wrap the tape sent to Missus Marriott. We'll see what she can tell us."

"Keep working." Gil ordered. "It's got to pop soon."

aaaaa

They sat by Brina's bedside, each wrapped in his own thoughts. Grissom cradled a folder that Warrick had given him in his lap. Horatio held Brina's hand, wishing there was more he could do. Part of him realized as he sat there that Brina was much more than a foster sister to him, yet he tried desperately to squash that feeling. He knew Brass had strong feelings for her and he didn't wish to get in the way. That's why he had told Brass what he had. He realized now that it was because he was afraid to hope for anything more in their relationship. He'd been burned too many times in the past and found himself overly cautious with women in general and with ladies who were friends in particular.

Gil looked up from his reading to gaze at the picture of the couple in front of him. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, but he quickly covered it with a hand, stroking his beard. "So, Horatio," he began, "we know that Brass will probably never tell Brina about his feelings. When will you?"

Horatio's head shot up to look into Grissom's cool blue eyes, his mouth gaping. "Is that the famous Grissom intuition I see," he finally smirked.

"It's obvious, H. Why else would you rush out here when you were called and stay with her 24-7?"

"That's what brothers do, you know."

"H., it's me. Don't try to deny it. I'm a trained observer, remember?" He smiled. "It just amazes me that the three most important men in her life have intimacy issues."

"Well," a whisper came from Brina. "You all have good reason to have those type of issues. Don't think you're alone. Lots of people have them."

The two men looked down at her pale face as she smiled up at them both. "You heard...?" Horatio's look of embarrassment was all too evident.

"Just that you all have intimacy issues. Strange things you men talk about when you think the women aren't listening."

"How do you feel?" Grissom asked.

"Like someone jumped on my chest," she reached a hand up to rub her sternum. "What happened."

"You had a little problem, but the doctors were able to remedy it."

Horatio stated.

"Stop that. I'm grown up, now. Tell me the truth."

"Congestive heart failure due to the pulmonary edema. They had to use the paddles on you to bring you back."

"So, I had a _man_ on my chest, did I?" She smiled. "Was he cute?"

bbbbb

"Hello, Your Honor." Roger's voice came from the doorway. Brina had been lying in her bed alone for several minutes when he arrived. She turned her head to see him in a wheelchair, his eyes bandaged. A gasp passed her lips before she could stifle it.

"Roger?" She looked from him to his wife, whose face showed the strain of the ordeal. "Tiki? What happened?"

They moved into the room and Tiki took a seat beside Brina. Roger stood up and reached his hand out to her. She took his, patting it gently. "Your attacker made a second run on me," he said. "Apparently, he used cobra venom in my attack, aiming directly for my eyes. He's quite cunning, this one."

"What's the prognosis?" Brina wasn't sure she wanted to know, but she needed to understand the extent of his injuries.

"I—I'm permanently blinded. I guess you'll have to get a new clerk."

"Don't worry about that yet. Let's wait and see if there is anything that can be done."

"You're an optimist, I know, but they say there is nothing." Tears flowed from Tiki and Brina's eyes.

"I am so sorry, Roger. You don't deserve this. It's all my fault."

"It is not. How do you figure that?"

"Obviously, this maniac was after me and anyone involved with my work, so…"

"Don't be ridiculous, Ms. Grissom," Tiki stated. "None of this was your fault. You could not have foreseen any of it."

"How do you feel?" Roger changed the subject.

"Well, after having my chest pounded on, I guess I should say I feel terrible, but I am breathing better."

"I heard he got you with acid. How's your face?"

"I'll have to have plastic surgery. We'll go to Miami for that, because some of my best friends are there. They'll take good care of me."

"When do you expect to leave?"

"As soon as the doctors release me from here. I hope it's soon. I want to get this done and get back on the bench."

"Meanwhile, the police and CSI will be working to find the lunatic that did this to us. I hope they are successful. He's very sly, this one."

ccccc

Brina sat in a wheelchair staring out the solarium windows. Brass, Horatio and Grissom sat around her, trying to fill her in on the happenings of the past couple of weeks. Her mind was a fog of images. Friends were having their lives destroyed, and for what?

"Can you think of any connection in all of this," Brass asked.

"Of course I can," she snapped before she could stop herself. Then, she turned toward him, a gentle hand reaching to touch his. "I'm sorry, Jim." She took a deep breath. "I can say for a fact each victim has been in my courtroom at one time or another."

"Carol Zukermann?"

"Multiple cases. She was also Mr. Fontaine's attorney during his trial." A tear trailed its way down her cheek. "I—I just can't believe someone would hurt Roger over a perceived injustice. Why him? He doesn't preside over cases or defend the criminals. I don't understand."

"Clearly," Horatio softly answered, "we are dealing with a deranged individual. We may never know the why. What can you tell us about Ms. Zukermann?" Brina's mind went to her colleague with the curly red hair.

"She always had a smile on her face and a kind word for everyone." A slight smile crossed her face as she continued. "She gave over 50 of her annual income to feed the poor and owned housing for displaced families to stay while they regrouped. She taught reading to the illiterate and was involved in the Boys and Girls Clubs of America.

"When we'd meet at a special function, she'd always be laugh8ing and jovial, always the best hostess. So you see," she turned her gaze to Grissom's critical eyes, "I can't see why anyone would harm her. How did you say she died?" She knew of the three men with her, her cousin would be most forthright. No beating around the bush with him.

He hesitated only a moment, reading the court professional in her demeanor. She would hear the facts from only him, as if he were in the witness box of her courtroom. He slowly stood, kneeling before her and placing her hands in his, staring into her fiery hazel eyes.

"Bree, this isn't going to be easy," he began. "You obviously cared for her."

"Everybody admired her, Gilly. Just state the facts."

"Okay," he took a deep breath. "She was found eviscerated in her bathtub, a large Bowie knife in the tub with her. Someone tried to make it look like a bizarre suicide."

"She'd never commit suicide." Brina insisted. "The perp is going to great length to keep himself hidden. Have you had a forensic psychologist check out the M.O.?"

"Yes. She's going through all the crime scene data now to try to piece together a profile."

Brina stared at the rose covered landscape outside the windows. She fingered the nasal cannula on her face that was attached to a portable oxygen tank for a moment. "That was personal," she finally spoke.

"They were all personal," Brass answered.

"Yes, Jim," she agreed, "but this time he wanted her to see him, look on the face of death as he destroyed her."

"She's right," Horatio nodded. "And by now he knows Bree is doing better. He'll be back to finish the job."

"The more reason to get her out of Vegas."

"No, Jim," she argued. "What good would that do? He'd just come after me."

"He's right, Bree," Grissom put in. "H. can take care of you down there and you can get the plastics done you'll need. You'd be under an alias, of course."

"We'd put you in an undisclosed location, say a beach cottage?"

"I have a better idea," Brina smiled.


	13. Chapter 13

**ACID BATH**

Please accept my apologies again for taking so long to get back to this. It is amazing to me how just listening or reading someone else's work can get one's own creative juices flowing again. Hope this meets with your approval. Beckaboo

**Chapter 13**

Brass sat across the conference table from two very youthful-appearing offices. The rookies seemed to more child-like every year, he mused, wondering if he had looked that young when he started.

Each of them had been with the composite artist and Brass marveled at how different each sketch looked. These men were trained observers, but the only consistencies were his name—Brown—from the tag on his shirt breast and his badge number. "Well," he finally spoke, "We have established he's a Caucasian male about thirty-five to forty years of age. We have his height and weight. You both agree on his name and badge number, so we are running that now. Tell me how it is I have two very different faces?"

ddddd

"Brown, Warrick," Brass called into the break room where Warrick and Sara wee pouring over lab results and sipping coffee. He barked out Warrick's badge number.

"Brass?" Warrick cocked an eyebrow.

"Let's see here…" Brass went down a list stating Warrick's height, weight, eye and hair colors and hairstyle. "Yep, sounds like you, but…"

"But?" Warrick wondered if he should laugh. What was Brass getting at with all this.

"But," Brass continued, a glint shining in his pale eyes, "he is a Caucasian, according to the report."

"What report?" Warrick sat back in his chair.

"The report from the officers on the scene at Brina's house when Sara got clobbered. It indicates a last name and badge number and, brother, it was you."

A cautious smile pulled at Warrick's lips. "You're kidding." Sara spoke up. "Right?"

Brass handed them the file with the two composites inside. Sara tapped Warrick playfully on the shoulder. "And all this time I thought you were African American. You been using makeup?" She pinched his cheek playfully.

Warrick slowly shook his head. "This guy's better than I thought. _He _should have used makeup. Nobody would have believed it wasn't me if he had." He scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Brass, I have an idea," He picked up the composites and headed for the audiovisual lab. He placed the two photos in the scanner and tapped on a few keys. Soon, they were looking at a composite of the composites, and Warrick's skin went ashen.

"Well, well," Brass said, smiling and tapping Warrick on the shoulder. "Mr. Brown, you're under arrest."

eeeee

"Brass," Greg called as the older detective walked by the DNA lab. "I think we cut a break."

"Yeah?" God knew they needed one. "We found one stray hair at the Zimmerman house that had a follicle still attached. Ran it through the DNA database and got a hit." He handed a file to Brass.

"Very good," he stood a little taller, not quite as tired as he had felt a moment ago. "But, can we link him to the other scenes?"

fffff

Brass shot his most intimidating gaze across the desk at the two rookies before him, trying not to grin at his toys. He had moments earlier finished re-reading the report under his hands. A very good report for rookies, he had to admit, but he could see room for improvement. After seeing sweaty foreheads on both, who tried but failed to hide their tension, he picked up the audiovisual rendition of the suspect. It was that of a tan Caucasian or light-skinned African American male in regulation NVPD uniform cap and shirt, sunglasses shielding his eyes. A hint of curly dark hair could be seen at the edge of the hat. Brass turned the photo toward the officers. "So," he began, "you ever see this guy before that day?"

The two officers stared at Brass, unable to move. "No, sir," the attractive, blonde female sitting to Brass's right admitted, "just that day. I thought he was new."

Brass allowed a crooked smirk to cross his lips. "Well, yeah. Guess you could say he was." Then, turning to the younger, tall and pale male officer, he continued. "Have any contact with him?"

The dark-skinned, bean-pole of a kid frowned over at him. "Just enough to exchange names and take assignments. Although hindsight, I felt he was a bit pushy about wanting the interior assignment."

"Did you now?" But of course, that was hindsight. Wasn't it always twenty-twenty? Or was this kid just saying that to cover his behind. "Look," Brass sighed, "don't bull me. Nobody expects you to get things perfect all the time. That said, look at the report and see if anything is missing or looks wrong." He handed them both copies and stepped from behind the desk. "I'll be right back," he said, heading for the hallway where Warrick awaited him. They watched from behind the glass wall as the UNIs perused their report, nodding to each other in approval. "Well," Brass looked up into Warrick's ice blue eyes, "they agree." He waved Warrick ahead of him into the office. Warrick pulled a chair up next to Brass's desk and sat down beside the bullish man. "Rick, this is Officer Colt McGarrett and Officer Mannix Derringer."

Officer Derringer tried not to wince at the mention of her given name. Would she ever live that first name down? What _had _her parents been thinking? She saw the glint that came into this gentleman's eyes at the mention of it. Then, she realized that Captain Brass was saying something.

"He has a vested interest in this case." A crooked smile came to his lips. "So, you are sure all your information is correct?"

"Yes, sir," said Mannix, nodding nervously. "It's all correct."

Warrick crossed his arms slowly, giving the UNIs his best cold, blank stare. Brass nodded. "That's interesting. Oh, by the way," he continued, as if he'd just had a thought, "did I mention the badge number you mentioned was Rick's? And that his last name is Brown? Oh, yeah, and he's a CSI." The two officers turned snow white and, Brass thought, might need a change of clothes soon. He loved messing with the rookies, especially if a friend could be brought on board to help. "He has the mother of all alibis, by the way. Not only was he working clear across town, his partner can verify this…" a pause, just long enough for them to open their mouths, but not long enough to say his partner would, of course, alibi him, "…and so does the vic."

"B-but Captain Brass," Officer McGarrett began, his skinny frame shaking like a rattler's tale. Brass held up a silencing hand, smiling his genial, fatherly smile.

"You reported what you saw. I know that. It is absolutely not your fault that the perp's so clever. We didn't realize until after Ms. Sidle's attack that our perp had access to law enforcement uniforms or, at the very least, extremely good fakes."

"This isn't the first time he has fooled one of us," Warrick admitted, his gaze softening on the two UNIs. "Don't let this big lug yank your chain and don't worry. You both did better than I would have as a rookie."

A duet of signs came from the two before them. "Now," Brass started. "here's what I want you to do."


	14. Chapter 14

**ACID BATH**

**Chapter 14**

Hours felt like days to the CSIs as they scoured through what little evidence they had. This guy was good, they agreed. So, as Gil would say if he were here and not standing vigil at the hospital, they had to be better.

Catherine rubbed her pale blue eyes, a weary sigh passing her lips. She couldn't believe she had only been on duty for three hours. Her head pounded and her neck muscles burned from being bent over to back-lit evidence table for too long. She looked through the glass wall across to where Greg sat busily making his magic in the DNA lab. Greg was a wonder. Although a CSI now, on tough cases he gave his expertise to the other lab rats in DNA analysis. She had watched this scrawny kid grow into a well-built, well-centered young man and wondered for the millionth time if she had played even a small part in that growth process. She hoped so. A smile passed her lips as she thought of her own teenage daughter, well on her way to adulthood with her own rebellious issues to work out.

"Earth to Catherine," Brass called from the doorway. She jumped as if hit by a cattle prod and whipped around. The Captain held a large brown bag in his hand, the opening sealed shut with red evidence tape, its black letter screaming at her. "I thought you might want to look at a new piece of evidence for a while."

Catherine's red eyebrows shot up. "New evidence," she asked eagerly. "Where..?"

"A uniform shop in Henderson. I had the two officers who actually got an eye on our Officer Brown," he couldn't resist using the name, a twinkle lighting his eyes, "do a search of all the uniform and costume shops in the area. Guess what, this nut job has the chutzpah to actually use Warrick's name and address."

"Takes brass for that," she smirked, her eyes snapping at the firmly intended pun.

"Yeah, well," he grinned back at her. "I don't think this psycho knows what he got himself into this time." She knew he was right. Two of the most well-known investigators on LVPD's payroll had personal attachments to this case. She gazed at the man in front of her. From the strong arms and legs, to the broad chest, he was the picture of a pit bull.

She thought of Gil, whose investigative technique was like one of his own insects: the brown recluse spider. He would weave his web in solitude until he had all the evidence before he would trap his prey. And she knew Horatio Caine would be the third Musketeer along for any collar when it was made. She had to keep saying "when" for Gil's sake, if nothing else. If this perp slipped through their fingers…But, she couldn't let a negative thought penetrate, now. They would find this S.O.B. and put him away. He'd get what was coming to him and she didn't mean a Caribbean Cruise.

She slit open the "evidence" tape with a scalpel and removed two uniforms, an LVPD standard and Animal Control gear. She looked up questioningly at Brass. "Think we'll get anything off these? It's been two weeks since…" She stopped, knowing how much it hurt for him to think of what had happened to the judge, and that he had been there and not been able to do a thing about it.

He shrugged. "What can I say? Store clerk says the guy just brought them back."

"Well, let's keep our fingers, toes and eyes crossed on this one." Catherine held the UV light to the LVPD uniform shirt.

"How 'bout you just keep your toes crossed," Brass smirked. I need your fingers and eyes right now."

ggggg

What can you tell me about Jake Wiley," Gil asked, handing Brina a file. Sitting on his sofa, glad to be out of the hospital, she opened it, looking down into the youthful face. Yes, she remembered him. A shy, intelligent young mane ten years ago, his had been one of her first criminal trials on the bench.

Her mind flew back to the trial. He had sat by his attorney, looking humble and sorrowful in his new tweed suit, probably bought off the rack by his attorney for this very occasion. He had no family in the gallery. Nobody sat behind him for moral support. His auburn hair was conservatively short with curls on top, which she noticed as he ran a hand through them. What had he been? Sixteen or seventeen at the time? Tall, lanky with flashing, emerald eyes and a bright white smile, so the news photo showed at the time.

She slowly raised her eyes to Gil's. "I remember him. He was a sad, quiet boy, not more than 17. He was on trial for the brutal murder of his mother and stepfather. Ten years ago. Is he out?"

"Yes. Released about two months ago. They gave him a thorough psych eval and decided he was cured."

"Why are you asking about him in particular?"

"Well, his DNA showed up at the Zimmerman house, for one thing. Brass has talked to his PO and she hasn't heard from him in a month. We also found out that he had sent some threatening letters to you and his attorney."

"Zimmerman," she recalled. Then, looking over at Brass, she asked, "Do you have a location?" He nodded. Her hazel eyes snapped. "I want to be there when you arrest him."

"I don't think…" Brass began.

"I have to be there. I want him to see his handiwork up close and personal." He opened his mouth in protest, but quickly closed it. She meant business and would take no objections.

"We have a car watching his crib now," Brass informed. "They'll let us know when he gets there."

"Now," Gil asked, "how about lunch."

hhhhh

"Hey," Warrick sauntered into the lab where Catherine stood over the lighted table, pouring over the uniforms before her. "Need some help?"

"Yeah," she smiled. "Thanks. I've been at it for hours. I think my eyes have had it." She sat on a stool and rubbed the back of her neck. "I know my neck has." He picked up a flashlight and started looking at the LVPD uniform. After a moment he stopped, looking up at her. "I think I have something."

She leaned over his shoulder as he took a pair of forceps and tugged on an errant hair, follicle intact. "DNA for this," he said. They both smiled as they again delved into the job full force, knowing that they would catch this perp, now.


	15. Chapter 15

**ACID BATH**

**Chapter 15**

"Brass," he spoke into the cell phone at his ear.

"Jim," Catherine said, "It's Cath. We got something off both uniforms. The DNA is that of Jake Wiley, ex-con. Got out just a couple months ago."

"Well, that just puts a couple more nails in his coffin, doesn't it?" He smiled. "Thanks, Cath. Good work."

Gil looked over at him, an eyebrow raised in question. After Brass shared the news, Gil and Brina smiled and nodded. "Now," Gil said, "We just wait for him to appear."

iiiii

Jake Wiley pulled to the curb, green eyes darting in all directions. With a toothy grin, he opened the van door. He hadn't been followed. That was good. Golly, he was hungry! He had taken a chance going to the market, but a guy had to eat, didn't he? The fried chicken in the sack tickled his nostrils, making it twice as hard to ignore the pang in his stomach.

He hopped the steps to his second floor flat two at a time, keying the lock and entering the tiny, shabby apartment. It wasn't much, but soon he'd have the money and get himself set in some fine digs. Then, he'd have all the chicks, booze and drugs a man could want. He smiled at the thought.

Flicking on the evening news, he pulled a chicken thigh from the bucket, popping open a beer with one hand. The newscaster rambled on about some old mine in the desert and a 10-car pile-up on the strip. Finally, her picture came on the screen. He looked at the judge's portrait as the newscaster droned on about no new leads. "No," he thought, "and there aren't going to be." He'd made sure of that.

jjjjj

Horatio sat in the unmarked car watching the perp's apartment, grateful to finally be able to do something, even if it was just a stakeout. He was also grateful that Grissom had offered him a bed on his couch so he could be near Brina, who was using Grissom's guest room while she looked for another home. She wouldn't be able to live there again, he knew. She was thinking about Henderson, but not very strongly. He hoped she would decide on a complete change of venue and stay in Miami once she was well. Of course, if Brass had anything to do with it…

He sat up straight as a rust Volkswagon van, belching blue smoke from the tailpipe, pulled up to the curb. It was a piece of American history, from the bygone era of hippies and peaceniks. A peace symbol was emblazoned on the side along with "flower power" symbols. He wondered where that had been found.

A beanpole of a man dropped out of the driver's seat, pulling grocery bags out behind him. From the scruff of curly blonde hair to the straight legged, torn blue jeans, the description fit. This had to be their perp. He quickly flipped on his phone, calling for Brass and backup.

kkkkk

The sky was growing dark as the backup arrived, no sirens blaring or lights flashing. Nobody wanted to startle their prey. Brass took charge, ordering men to the back of the building as Gil, Horatio and he went through the front door. He was first in line, then Horatio, Gil and Brina, Gil trying his best to keep his cousin from getting into the middle of the foray. She just held up a .44 magnum and smiled. At that, Gil just shrugged and kept her behind him as best he could.

Brass rapped his big fist on the door. "Police," he yelled. "Jake Wiley, open up!" After a moment of silence, he nodded to two officers, who rammed in the door. Brass was the first person through the door, gun at the ready. A shot rang out, missing his forehead by a millimeter, pinging against the door jamb. He hunched down, Horatio curling himself through the door and getting off a couple of rounds into the hallway.

Brina came crouching through the doorway before Gil could stop her, the Magnum cocked and ready for action. Two more shots rang out from the hallway. She heard a "thwunk" that let her know someone had gotten hit, but couldn't wait to see who it was. She crouched forward, pulling off three swift shots. A groan came from the hallway.

Brass came up onto his knees, slowly moving into the hallway. He quickly flicked on a flashlight he had pulled out of his belt. There in the floor lay Jake Wiley, bleeding from various bullet wounds. It looked to him like five in all. Horatio must have gotten a couple of shots in as well as Brina.

Brina walked up behind him, looking over his shoulder at the bleeding clump of flesh on the floor. "Well," she said, "I guess he won't be checking out his handiwork after all." She turned to see Horatio raising himself off the floor, holding a bloody hand up to his forehead. "H.!" she gasped, running over to his side.

"It's all right, Bree," he smiled shyly. "I didn't duck in time, I guess." She removed his hand from the flesh wound that poured blood down his face, then handed him a towel from the nearby kitchen to place over it. "Good thing Annie Oakley was here, wasn't it," he smiled at Gil and Brass as they came up to them.

lllll

As the Paramedics treated Horatio's forehead, Gil, Brass and Brina looked through the house. Everything seemed ordinary, until they got to the bedroom. Gil was first, stopping short as he turned on the light. The room was filled with photos of Brina, candid as well as press photos. There was a scrapbook on his bed stand filled with articles on Brina and her career. It was a virtual shrine.

"Well," Brass said as he looked through the room. "I guess this kind of cinches things."

"Yes," Brina said, "He was definitely stalking me. Well," she added, watching the coroner remove the body, "I guess he won't be stalking anyone again."


	16. Chapter 16

**ACID BATH**

**Epilog**

The airplane hummed beneath her feet as she mounted it, followed by her two best friends. They had waited nearly an hour before boarding, eating a luncheon in one of the airport restaurants and joking with one another about the business now finished. Brina was grateful that Brass had decided to come along to Miami anyway, even though she didn't need a bodyguard anymore. Horatio, she knew, wasn't exactly pleased with having to share her, but if he wasn't going to make up his mind whether he was going to open up to her about his feelings, then she would continue to cultivate Jim's friendship, too.

Brass sat in the window seat, Brina in between him and Horatio. He wondered if he would ever be able to tell Bree just how he felt. He wanted to keep the friendship and was afraid to take the next step. He didn't want to make things complicated. But then, he thought, looking over at Horatio, maybe they already were.

Horatio smiled over at Brass. Brina was laughing about some little thought and squeezed his hand. She glanced up at the gauze bandage over the slash on his forehead, not wanting to say anything, but knowing she would always feel guilty that Horatio got hit like that. Horatio noted the glance, but decided not to say anything now. They would have plenty of time to get through that in Miami. She wasn't responsible, even though she felt like she was. He hoped he would be able to make her realize that it was his fault and his only. He didn't want her to go through life with that kind of guilt. He had enough guilt for both of them. He loved her so much, but she seemed more interested in Brass. He'd back off if that's what she wanted. He'd be her friend. Right now, that's all she seemed to want. It was fine with him.

mmmmm

He watched from the back of the plane as they walked on and settled. She was a vision in red: slacks, blouse and jacket. The bandages still wrapped her right cheek, but that was the only clue to the damage that had been done. Her red hair was pulled up in a bun on the top of her beautiful head.

He sat back as the plane ascended, sipping a martini as he surveyed the plane. It would be good to leave Vegas and get some sea air. Besides, he had business in Miami which included the trio he watched intently. The problem was when and where to complete his mission.

END.


End file.
